Deleted Scene: Tag for The Night of the Burning Diamond
by The Wild Wild Whovian
Summary: The Night of the Burning Diamond concludes with the Bad Guy dead and his minions captured, ending as usual with a little touch of humor - but really, how did Jim & Artie explain to their boss why the pair of them had been caught with a stolen diamond bracelet on them during the robbery of the exhibition?


_Thanks to Cal Gal & Deana for graciously betaing. Any remaining mistakes are my own._

* * *

**Deleted Scene: Tag for The Night of the Burning Diamond**

Here they were, James West and Artemus Gordon, the most trusted agent in the Secret Service and his partner, the most inventive gadgeteer, the two of them cooling their heels in the anteroom of their boss' office, waiting - under armed guard, mind you! - to be escorted before the director to give account of themselves. They sat side by side silently, the well-developed mental telepathy between them obviating speech.

Besides, there was nothing to say. They both knew their collective goose was cooked.

The door opened and the director's secretary stepped forth. "The colonel will see you now," he said, then glanced at the two guards and added, "Alone."

The two agents exchanged a look as they crossed to the inner door. No guards was good, surely. Now if only Baines weren't involved!

They stepped through the door to find two men glaring at them. One was, of course, the director, and the other…

"Ah, there they are!" growled Special Envoy Thaddeus Baines. "The jewels of the Secret Service. Or say rather, the jewel _thieves _of the Service!"

Artie opened his mouth to protest, but subsided at a shake of Jim's head. Ignoring Baines, Jim turned to the director and said, "You wished to see us, Colonel?"

"I did." The colonel picked up a folder as he came to his feet and stepped from behind the desk. "I have your report here from your most recent case, gentlemen." He flipped open the folder, paged through it briefly, then sighed and dropped it onto his desk. "Burning diamonds," he said, "in order to produce an elixir that permits one to move faster than the eye can see, and this formula was created by one Morgan Midas, who used the elixir to steal all those diamonds to make himself even more elixir…"

Baines scoffed loudly.

"…but we cannot question Midas regarding any of this, because the man is dead." The colonel took up the report again, used it to waft away some tendrils of cigar smoke, then slapped the folder against the side of the desk. "Dead from air friction while under the influence of the elixir after spilling some alcohol on himself!"

"Nonsense," muttered Baines.

The colonel sighed and shook his head. "Gentlemen, it's undeniable that the two of you have undertaken some very remarkable cases. After all, you've dealt with Dr Loveless! But this? Do you really expect me to believe this?"

"Yes sir," said Jim, meeting the colonel's eye steadily.

"But it's incredible!"

"Yes sir," said Jim again.

"You do understand," sneered Baines, "that the definition of 'incredible' is 'that which has no credibility.' Which applies not only to that," and he waved at the folder, "that _tissue _of lies the pair of you turned in under the guise of your report, but also applies to you as agents as well! Obviously you have seized upon the death of this unfortunate fellow to frame him as your scapegoat in this sorry business!"

The colonel grimaced and held up a hand, asking Baines for silence. He sighed again. "Jim, Artemus, I don't want to agree with Mr Baines here, but this report is…" Again he shook his head. "And not only do we have this… this fantastic explanation for all that took place, we have the undeniable fact that the two of you _were _caught leaving the exhibition on the heels of the theft of so many valuable diamonds…"

"_Literally _caught!" put in Baines. "Red-handed, with a pilfered diamond bracelet hanging from your pocket, West, as the iron gates installed by your own partner closed you in on all sides!"

"And the fact that the pair of you subsequently broke out of your jail cell - well, that just doesn't look good, men!"

"Nor the fact that you then broke _in _at Lady Midas' home, which resulted in the death of her nephew!"

Jim leveled a piercing gaze at Baines. "Are you saying that in addition to your accusations of theft and jail breaking, you are now adding murder?"

Baines gaped for a moment. "Well, I…"

"You did speak with Miss Ivronin afterwards, didn't you?" asked Artie.

"As well as to the menservants we arrested, Clive and Rudd?"

"Well," Artie muttered mostly to himself, "perhaps not to _Rudd_…"

"We did in fact interview all three," said the colonel.

"And?"

The colonel spread his hands. "Miss Ivronin corroborated your story. Midas was stealing the diamonds to make the elixir, intending to aspire to wealth and power through them." He glanced at his two agents and added, "She said he had also spoken of killing you or destroying your memories before he instead offered to let you share his power."

"To which you agreed!" clamored Baines, shaking his fist at them.

Jim cut his eyes at the special envoy. "It was join him or die. We went along with him in the hopes of turning the tables on him. A fact of which he, at least, was no doubt fully cognizant."

"Yes, Mr Baines. Hasn't it occurred to you how convenient it all was?" said Artie.

"Convenient?"

"Oh yes! He takes along with him to the exhibit the very man who set up all the traps, threatens the life of that man's partner," and he nodded at Jim, "then leaves the two of them behind to take the rap for his doings."

Baines scowled. "Whereas another point of view on that is that the two agents, having come out of this alive, unlike Mr Midas, are now trying to pin their own doings on a dead man."

Artie whistled and shook his head. "You just don't like us very much, do you, Mr Baines?"

The envoy gaped again. "I…! I'll have you know, Mr Gordon, that my personal feelings regarding you and this… this _golden boy _of the Secret Service do not enter into my judgment regarding your heinous actions in any way!" He coughed and waved some cigar smoke away from his face.

"Golden boy?" repeated Artie and turned a glance toward Jim.

"Doesn't affect your judgment?" said Jim. "Well then, consider this, Mr Baines. My partner was the man who built the many traps at the exhibit hall, as you well know; you hovered around him, peering over his shoulder at every step. If all of this was Artie's plan and mine to steal the diamonds, don't you suppose we would have had the brains to carry it off without us getting caught in the very traps Artie had set up? Would we really have allowed ourselves to be captured between the iron gates, or don't you suppose we would have either turned the traps off, or done it all another way?"

"Right!" said Artie. "Would we have brazenly attempted such a heist in broad daylight in the middle of the crowds attending the exhibition, or would we have come in at night, turned off the security devices, and been long gone before the thefts could be discovered?"

"There's also this, Mr Baines," added Jim. "You were there in the hall when the thefts occurred. Did you see us?"

"Of course I saw you! Are you trying to lie your way out of that as well? I stood right there outside the iron gates and spoke to you, and you replied." He smirked in triumph. "So don't try to claim that you didn't!"

"Not then," said Artie. "Before that. Before the gates closed on us. Did you see us in the hall taking the diamonds? Did you in fact see _anyone_ taking the diamonds?"

"Well, I… ah…"

"And the camera that fired when the one case was disturbed. What was on the photograph? Who touched that case?"

"I… Well, it's, uh… the strangest thing, but…"

"No one is on that photograph, gentlemen," said the colonel. "At least, no one directly touching the case. And there is no sign of either one of you on the image either."

"Thank you, colonel."

"Two more questions." Jim fixed the envoy with another keen gaze. "When the gates were closing around us, the outside door slammed shut. Who went out that door? And also, if Artie and I stole all the missing diamonds, why was the only item on us that bracelet?"

"Yes," said Artie, "where were all the other jewels?"

Again Baines had no answer. He stammered a bit, then coughed and waved at the smoke again.

Smoke. Jim and Artie exchanged a glance. Mr Baines wasn't smoking, nor was the colonel. So why was there smoke in the air, and in fact the smoke of a particularly familiar aroma of cigar? The smoke, they saw, was swirling into the room from the open window.

No, not from the window, but from a wing chair that was facing the window, its back toward the rest of the room. And from the chair there now rolled a deep, throaty chuckle. "Well, well, well!" came a raspy voice. "Didn't I tell you, Mr Baines?"

There was no mistaking _that _voice! Both Jim and Artie came to respectful attention as a bearded man in a black frock coat stood up from the chair. Smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkling, he greeted the two agents with, "Good afternoon, Jim, Artemus."

"Good afternoon, Mr President," they responded.

"Now," said Grant, taking another puff from his cigar, "as I told you earlier, Baines, whatever is in that report, _that _is what happened. I trust these two men implicitly."

"But, Mr President! Burning diamonds? Invisible men speeding faster than the eye can see? That's the stuff of, of fairy tales!"

"Ah, but are you forgetting your Shakespeare, Baines? 'There are more things…' " Grant stopped and snapped his fingers. "Ah, now I'm forgetting! What is it Hamlet says? First act, I believe?"

He looked at Artemus, who promptly - and resonantly - supplied:

"_There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,  
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. _Act One, Scene Five."

"Thank you. I knew I could count on you for that, Artemus." The president turned again to the envoy. "These are my finest agents, Baines. That's why they were placed on this case. I've known them both for years and would trust them with my life - and often have! James?"

"Yes sir?"

"Have you ever lied to me?"

"No sir, Mr President."

"Good lad, good lad. And, Artemus, what of you?"

"Ah… me, sir?" Artie's face took on the look of someone staring down the barrel of a shotgun.

"Yes. The same question to you as to Jim. Have you ever lied to me?"

"Um… Oh. Well… O-only when absolutely necessary, sir."

Grant laughed uproariously. "I suppose I deserved that! But you see, Baines, the level of candor I can expect from these men."

"But, sir, the diamonds! The theft!"

"Occurred precisely as my men described it in their report!" The old general fixed Mr Baines with a gimlet eye. "And that, sir, is the end of the matter. Is that understood?"

"I…" Baines stammered a moment, then visibly deflated. "Yes sir."

"Good! You may go now." Grant waved the hand holding the cigar toward the door.

"But, sir, I…"

"Dis_missed!_"

At the president's barked order, Baines grabbed his hat and fled.

"Phew!" sighed the great man. "And good riddance too." He glanced at his agents. "Do you know, gentlemen, how often I have to deal with the Mr Baineses of this world? Far more often than I'd care to, let me tell you." He pointed the cigar after the departed envoy. "Men like Mr Baines," he proclaimed, "are the sort who make their entire careers out of being the nether end of a jackass." His eyes twinkling, the president added, "Well, carry on, Colonel. Gentlemen, good day." He headed for the door.

"Thank you, sir."

The door closed behind Grant, and now it was Jim and Artie who let out sighs. "I'm glad we have his confidence," said Artie.

"May we ever deserve it," added Jim.

"He certainly never wavered in it," said the colonel. "And Baines was hammering away at him most of the morning. Well," he offered his hand, "you may go now. I'll have your new assignment ready for you shortly. Although…"

"Yes, Colonel?"

He rummaged in his desk drawer and produced a book. "This is the late Mr Midas' lab journal of all his experiments. It occurs to me…"

Jim and Artie exchanged a glance. "What, uh," said Artie, "what occurs to you, sir?"

He chuckled a bit self-consciously. "Oh, I was just thinking that with this, we could duplicate Midas' diamond formula for use as a crime-fighting weapon. Just imagine, gentlemen, being able to swoop in and nab the criminals faster than they can see you and react! What a boon that would be!"

"Ah…" Again Jim and Artie shot each other a look.

"Something wrong, gentlemen?"

"Oh, well, Colonel, remember that Midas had us drink some of the formula."

"Yes, Jim?"

"And it wore off fairly quickly."

"Because he didn't give you much, yes."

"And it hurt like blazes when it did wear off," put in Artie. "Terrible pains, right at the heart."

"Oh, I see," said the colonel. He glanced down at the journal. "Then you're saying you wouldn't want to use the formula?"

"Never again, sir. Exactly."

"Besides," said Jim, "keep in mind how very many diamonds - large and famous diamonds - Midas destroyed to make such a small amount of his elixir. If we continued making it, we'd soon deplete the world's supply of the gemstones. That wouldn't go over very well."

"Yes, imagine how upset the ladies alone would be with us for depriving them of their sparklers!" said Artie earnestly.

"I… see…" the colonel repeated slowly. He gave a great sigh and shoved the journal back into the desk drawer. "So much for that idea then. Well." He pasted on a smile. "Again, good day, Jim, Artemus. You can expect your next assignment shortly."

"Thank you, sir." As they exited, the colonel dismissed the armed guards, leaving the two top agents free to go.

"Well!" said Artie as they went out front of the building and hailed a carriage. "That certainly worked out better than it looked like it would at the start. Thank goodness for President Grant!"

"I'll drink to that."

"Mm! You know, that's an excellent idea. What do you say we adjourn to one of Washington's exceptional restaurants for a little celebration? Say, dinner, brandy, and some fine cigars?"

"Your treat?"

Artie chuckled. "Oh, you always say that!"

"Yes, and somehow in the end, it always winds up being _my _treat instead!"

"Oh, does it?" said Artie, the very soul of innocence.

Jim grinned and gave their cabbie the name of a particularly elegant restaurant.

The two men relaxed into the cushions of the carriage, enjoying the feeling of their restored freedom.

"By the way, James my boy…"

"Hmm?"

"Well, it's something that occurs to me. You were saying how very many diamonds Midas used to make his formula. And I was thinking: diamonds are made of carbon, you know."

"Yes."

"The very same common substance that you can get from, say, burning some sugar."

"Mm-hmm."

"The same substance that's in the lead of pencils - though of course it's really graphite and not metallic lead at all."

"Right. This is going somewhere?"

"Well, I was just thinking that it's all carbon. The only difference is in the _form _of carbon. So suppose, just suppose, you were to take some graphite, or even some burnt sugar! and subject it to the extreme pressures under which natural diamonds form in the heart of the earth - why, you could make artificial diamonds! Make enough of those, and there would be plenty to use for making that formula. Not," he added hastily, "that _I _ever want to take it again. The aftermath of it wearing off was just…" And he shuddered and grimaced.

"Artificial diamonds," said Jim. He rolled his eyes.

"You don't think so?"

Jim clapped him on the shoulder. "Artie, I'm just glad you didn't bring this up in front of Baines. He already thought we were looney."

"Looney…" Artie sighed and stared out the window, watching the scenery roll by.

The carriage drew up before the restaurant and they dismounted, Jim tossing the cabbie a coin. "Your treat, remember," he added as they entered the fine establishment.

"Uh-huh," said Artie, still a bit despondent. But as the maître d'hôtel saw them to their table, a gleam came into his eye. "That's it, James! That's what I'll do: I'll write the whole thing up into a novel!"

"A novel?" said Jim, taking his seat. "You want to be an author?"

"Sure! Why not?" said Artie, sitting down opposite Jim. "I think it could make a very interesting story."

"Well," said Jim, glancing over the menu, "despite what the president thinks, the reports you turn in for us to the colonel are at times just packed with colorful fiction."

"Oh, ha ha. No, I'm serious, Jim. I could be the next Dickens. Or Tolstoy! Hugo, or Dumas, whether _père _or _fils_."

Jim cocked on eyebrow. "Somehow I can't imagine any of those authors writing a novel about a man being able to move too fast to be visible. Or for that matter, able to make artificial diamonds."

"Hmm. Well then I'll just have to invent a new type of novel, won't I? One based on scientific principles."

"What, some sort of scientific fiction?"

"Yes, precisely. Or wait. There are two identical syllables side by side in that phrase. How about conflating them to scientifiction?"

Jim winced. "But consider, Artie: while you're becoming the world's most beloved novelist, who's going to be pulling my fat out of the fire?"

"Ah." Artie considered a moment, then said, "Well, I guess maybe I can put off authorship for my retirement."

Jim nodded. "Wise choice," he said and looked over the menu. "Ready to order?"

Midway through the bouillabaisse, Artie suddenly leveled his spoon at his partner and said, "You know, James, something else occurs to me. Just once when I come up with an idea like this, I wish you'd be enthusiastic about it instead of shooting me down."

"All right," Jim agreed. "I'll be enthusiastic. But you'll have to present me with something other than all these hare-brained ideas you've bounced off me today."

"I see." Artie nodded slowly, waited until Jim was taking a sip of his wine, then said, "So what I need, then, is to come up with some _tortoise_-brained ideas instead?"

After half a dozen napkins had been conscripted to deal with the spittake, Jim said to his partner, "You're quite the rascal, Artie. You know that."

"Oh, I try, James. I do try." And with a smug smile, Artie lifted the bottle and asked casually, "Care for some more wine?"

**FIN**


End file.
